Road Trip
by Llmav
Summary: In which Austin and Ally go on a road trip.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N; What can I say? I know I probably shouldn't start another multi-chapter fic, but hitch-hiking stripper Ally just won't leave me alone. She's poking my brain and it's starting to hurt, so I had to let her out.**

**This will be just a few chapters long, like 2 or so. 3, tops. Absolutely no more than 4.**

**The chapters will vary A LOT in length.**

**This first chapter is rated T, but the rating will change eventually, most likely within the next couple of chapters.**

...

_**Las Vegas, Nevada - Late, late, late at night or perhaps very, very, very early in the morning (he wasn't quite sure and he really, really didn't care)**_

The _music_ was too loud, the _venue_ too smokey, and _he_ was too drunk.

Well, he guessed _too_ was a relative term. He was very, _very_ drunk, but perhaps only and exactly as drunk as one was expected to be while attending your best friend's bachelor party.

He really had nobody but himself to blame, as he was the one who had planned out the out-of-town weekend.

He was going to be the best man at said wedding, after all.

If he survived the freaking bachelor weekend, that was.

He sighed, and although he had intended for it to be an internal one,he was about forty-eight percent or so sure that it ended up coming out loud.

Not that anyone could hear him.

He almost sighed again.

It wasn't that he minded going out. He had absolutely _nothing_ against a beer or two, but it wasn't exactly their _first_ night out.

And they also, coincidentally, hadn't had _just_ a beer or two.

The last few days were a blur of alcohol, very late nights and random hook-ups on the part of the single guys in their fairly large group of friends.

All the single guys except for _him_.

He had gotten used to the constant ridicule and half-bad attempts at humorless jokes at his expense, but he didn't really care, because hooking up with random strangers wasn't his thing, it had never _been_ his thing, it would never _be_ his thing.

He was a relationship type of guy, and had it been up to him, he would still be in one.

Damn it.

He just wasn't ready.

For any of it.

He groaned, inwardly this time around, as he once again looked around the small, run-down place, and was once again unsuccessful in locating the groom-to-be along with _any_ of the other guys.

All he could see was girls, so many girls, all of them in various stages of undress.

It really wasn't that surprising.

They were in a strip club, after all.

A strip club in Vegas.

They had been in sin city for a few days, a few days that felt like half a lifetime.

He was ready to leave, craving the somewhat comfyness of his hotel room bed, but then again, he had been ready to leave before they had even entered the place.

If he was never to step foot in a strip joint again it would still be too soon.

How _had_ they ended up there? He was trying to retrace the events of the evening in his intoxicated mind, unsuccessfully so as all he could remember were foggy images of taking shots.

So many shots.

Fuck.

He finally located Dallas by one of the nearby tables, with one girl in his lap and another one next to him, alternatingly making out with both of them, and although he was pretty sure that he had heard somewhere that a threesome was supposed to be every man's sexual dream, he was thoroughly grossed out.

Dallas had the same taste in women as he had in food, namely cheap and greasy.

He shuddered.

He decided against interrupting whatever was going on at that table, as he continued to scan the semi-dark room in search for Dez, to be able to let him know that he was leaving.

He was kind of hoping that he would leave with him.

He was a bit worried that his best friend and groom-to-be would get lost and end up wandering the streets all by himself, and that kind of concerned him, because that would simply be a robbery waiting to happen.

He finally spotted him, the tall redhead dancing in haphazard somewhat-rhythm to the too loud music close to the stage, seemingly oblivious to the 'performance' that was playing out a few yards away.

He tapped him on the shoulder, nodding towards the exit.

"I'm heading back to the hotel." He had to scream to make himself heard.

Dez wrinkled his eyebrows in disapproval. "_Duuuuuuude_. This is our _last_ night. _One_ more song, _one_ more shot. Come _on_."

He nodded because how could he not.

Dez was right.

For once.

It was their last night.

One more song. One more shot.

But that was it.

What felt like a second later, and they had some shots lined up on the bar desk in front of them.

He held his breath as he put the small glass to his mouth, the liquid burning his throat, and he couldn't even tell what type of alcohol it was as he swallowed it down as fast as he possibly could.

Dez was already calling the semi-nude waitress over for another one.

Four shots and countless songs later, and his head was spinning faster than the pompoms that were strategically placed on the very large breasts of the..._person_...who was currently 'dancing' around a tall pole on the small, dimly lit stage.

Time to leave. At least for him.

He hugged Dez goodbye, and he was almost by the exit when the next song began blasting out of the large speakers. For some reason, it made him stop dead in his tracks and turn back around.

The music was different from what had been playing throughout the last few hours, a little edgier, a little darker, and it intrigued him.

Someone new entered the stage, some smoke shooting out of somewhere (he had no clue from where) just as a small spotlight turned on, landing on said someone.

It was a girl, a petite girl, with long blonde hair and an odd-looking outfit, and he wasn't sure whether he had seen her on stage earlier in the evening. Actually, he knew he hadn't.

He would have remembered her.

She was pretty. Very pretty. Too pretty to take her clothes off for money.

He was pretty sure _all_ girls were too pretty for _that_, though.

As she started to slowly move, beginning to undress, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. She was stunning. Granted, she was wearing too much make-up, and something was definitely up with her too blonde, too long hair, but she was fucking breath-taking nonetheless.

She was swaying her hips in ways that probably would have made him want to blush if he hadn't been so drunk. As it was, however, it made him want to do other things.

Several other things.

Their eyes met, and she flashed him a tired smile, or maybe more a smile of defeat, and it hurt his heart a bit, the same heart that was currently making funny du-dunking noises as he was suddenly breathing heavier. Her eyes were lingering on him, and he still couldn't look away, although he wanted to, or kind of wanted to, eh, he really wasn't sure anymore. It was kind of like watching one of those movies where you were too scared to watch, so you covered your eyes with your fingers, but ended up peeking through them anyways.

There was something so oddly intimate about her performance. She was very good at it, whatever _it_ was, good at making him feel like the only guy in the room, managing to make him forget the crowd of horny men who undoubtedly were ogling her like she was the nearby buffet that he hadn't even dared to touch, although, come to think of it, he was actually starving.

But as she was seducing him, albeit perhaps not literally, he was also overcome with an weird side effect of protectiveness, because with each piece of clothing that she removed, he kind of wanted her to put it back on.

It wasn't that she wasn't sexy, she was, she really, _really_ was, but although he was incredibly turned on, he was also kind of wishing he could somehow find a blanket and wrap her up in it.

The song was coming to an end, and he realized that she was finished taking her clothes off, leaving _her_ in some sort of lingerieish looking piece and _him_ in a state of rock-solidness.

And he wasn't talking about his abs that he worked tediously and meticulously on maintaining.

He felt his heart rate speed up even further as she walked off of the stage and approached him.

Her high heels were clacking against the floor in the momentarily quiet room, and he had to admit that he was fairly impressed by her ability to walk in those shoes, those shoes that made her only half a head shorter than him rather than the full head shorter she would have been without them.

She was getting closer, and he could smell her, her almost too heavy perfume like a breath of fresh air in the otherwise less than nicely-scented space.

He soon realized that her hair was a blonde wig, like in that old movie that he had watched once (or maybe twice). Although in the movie, the leading lady had been a prostitute and he really, _really_ hoped that the only similarities between reality and said movie was the fact that _he_ owned a nice, expensive car (although it was nicely parked in his neat, two-door garage) and was _very_ afraid of heights, and that _she_ was wearing a wig.

She extended her small, well-manicured hand and he took it because he kind of wanted to touch her skin.

She was smiling, but although he had just met her, and despite being drunker than he probably should be, he could tell it wasn't real.

"I'm Roxxxy Rocket."

He laughed. "Aha. Right. I'm..." It took him a few seconds too long to come up with something. He wasn't used to using aliases. "I'm Jackson Lowe."

She smiled, an understanding, almost mischievous smile, and _he_ knew that _she_ knew who his by now washed-up childhood idol was, and that somehow, kind of, made him very, very happy.

"So...private dance?"

Right. She was _working_.

It felt as if his head was working on overtime, or perhaps it was just a tad slower than usual due to the large amount of liqueur that was flowing through it, but he knew he needed to come up with something.

If _he_ turned her down, she would go elsewhere, perform a private dance for someone else.

He _really_ didn't want that.

But he also had absolutely _no_ intention of spending the night (or early morning, whatever) having a beautiful, semi-naked girl grind up on him only because he had paid her too much money to do so.

"How about I pay you double _not_ to do that?"

She looked at him with big, dark eyes, the nearby, flashing spotlights reflecting in them and there was something about her that made him feel like he had met her before.

It kind of bothered him.

Maybe she just reminded him of someone else, he wasn't sure, he really couldn't put his finger on it.

"Why would you do that?" Her voice was a loudish scream in his ear, as the music was once again relentlessly pumping out from the speakers.

He shrugged as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket, pulled out whatever bills were left in it and handed them to her.

She immediately handed them back to him.

"People who offer me money like that usually expect..._other_ things, and I...I don't do _that_."

His emotions were mixed. He wasn't sure whether he was more relieved to hear that she wasn't a hooker, or more offended that she thought that he was that type of guy who would be interested in something like that.

"I...I wasn't suggesting...I don't expect _anything_ from you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Ok." He could tell that she didn't really believe him.

He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much.

"I'm serious. I...I don't even want you to _dance_ for me." He had to lean down to get close to her ear for her to hear him, and he had to fight the urge to wrap his arms around her and carry her out of there, throw her over his shoulder before walking off into the sunset.

Or sunrise.

Whatever.

"Don't like what you see?" She had a teasing smile on her face, but he also noticed that she almost looked sad, and he could see that her confidence had wavered a bit, almost as if she had been faking it completely in the first place.

That _really_ wasn't it.

How could he explain it?

He shook his head, as if _that_ would help him to form coherent sentences.

The problem was not that he didn't like what he saw, the problem was that he liked it a bit too much.

He couldn't recall being as attractive to anyone else since...

He interrupted his own train of thoughts.

"Maybe you could take the rest of the night off or something." He handed her the bills again.

"That's not exactly how it works, but...thanks." She kept the money this time around, tucking it into her corset, before she turned around and walked away, heading towards the backstage, most likely to her dressing room, turning around a few times to smile at him before disappearing from his view.

He lingered for a few more minutes, almost as if he wanted to make sure that she wasn't going to come back out, yet silently praying that she would, just so he could catch another glimpse of her.

For a split second, he contemplated trying to get back there, perhaps trying to get her number or something, before he realized that there was absolutely no use.

He was leaving the next day.

And he wasn't ready, anyways.

It was really, really time for him to leave.

He exited the building, reappearing from the underground space while inhaling deeply, as if he had been swimming under water and was short on oxygen. The hot morning air immediately filled his lungs, and he started to cough excessively, letting out the second-hand smoke that he unwillingly but inescapably had swallowed throughout the night.

If his lungs weren't black, he was at least pretty certain that they were a light shade of grey.

The morning light was piercing his tired eyes as he walked alone down the surprisingly somewhat still busy street, soon getting to the nearby hotel that was their temporary, soon-no-more home.

He threw himself on the bed, too tired to change but also too tired (fine, drunk) to actually go to sleep.

He laid there, letting the morning sun-rays that were peeking in through the window dance on his face while his head was spinning in rapid circles, and he tried to focus on a large dirt spot in the whitish ceiling.

An hour later, and he made another attempt at going to sleep, but it proved difficult as he now kept on hearing Dallas and his latest conquests (and most likely the causes behind his next STDs), going at it in the adjacent room in some sort of three-way, unmistakable noises seeping through the seemingly paper thin walls, and he sighed as he pulled the comforter above his head, not managing to block out the unison choir of the two girls apparent moans of pleasures.

Whatever.

The last night was over.

The _trip_ was over.

He could finally go home.

As he was laying there, alone, exactly as he had been every other night since they had gotten there, and quite a few nights prior to that, too, he covered his ears and closed his eyes and finally dozed off into an uneasy sleep.

The only difference from the previous nights was that his disorganized, drunken dreams were now preoccupied by a pair of big, brown eyes and a long, too blonde wig.

...

_**Somewhere in Nevada - Late afternoon but still way, way, way too early.**_

He had gotten off to a late start.

The plan had been for him to leave early in the morning.

With Dallas.

He had overslept, ending up paying for another day at the already ridiculously expensive hotel as he had missed the check-out time, but whatever.

It had kind of been worth it just for the few extra hours of sleep.

But then Dez had convinced him to stick around to eat something, mumbling something about '_your_ _best_ _friend_ _only_ _getting_ _married_ _once_'.

He really hoped that was going to be the case.

Then said plan had drastically changed even _more, _as Dallas had decided to stay behind in the city of sin, apparently not having had enough of the crazy Vegas life that _he_ would be happy to never, ever experience again.

Dallas had begged him to stay for a few more days, and he quite honestly couldn't think of anything else he would want to do less.

He used work as an excuse for needing to get back home, although both of them knew that one of the privileges of being his own boss was that he could take time off as he pleased.

But as the good friend he was, Dallas didn't question it.

And then he was finally on his way, the rental car making funny noises as he speeded out of the city and onto the highway.

His head was pounding despite the several pain relievers and multiple cups of coffee that he had already consumed. He was thirsty, so fucking thirsty, and he eyed the multiple water bottles that he had bought prior to taking off. He kind of wanted to drink some as his throat was as dry as the air outside, but he didn't want to drink too much as he didn't want to need to pull over every five minutes, like some elderly lady with an continence problem.

He could see the steam rising from the too hot pavement in front of him, the air vibrating with heat, as he was now almost literally flying down the narrow highway.

He needed to make up some time.

He had _not_ been planning on driving the whole way by himself.

That, and he was ready to get home.

Even if said home was empty.

Too empty.

He couldn't wait to sleep in his own bed. With the best quality mattress.

He had driven for about half an hour when he spotted something by the side of the road.

He squinted his eyes, as if _that_ would make him see clearer, but it didn't help as he still wasn't sure of what it was.

Something.

Something that was moving.

Wait a minute.

The something was a _someone_.

Who the fuck was _walking_ in the freaking desert heat, in the middle of the afternoon, the scorching sun burning hotter than sauce Dez had insisted he had to try on his pancakes during their joint late lunch prior to his take-off.

He was sweating _inside_ of the car, and he had the AC blasting on full power, yet still feeling as if he was about to melt away despite only wearing a tank-top and shorts.

The walking someone must be crazy.

He slowed down, perhaps from curiosity or perhaps from idiocracy, as he really wasn't completely sure of what he was doing, and not even a hundred percent sure that he was actually going to stop.

And then he did, going against every bit of good judgement that he had left after a wild weekend of partying in Vegas, pulling the car over on the side of the narrow road and coming to a full stop a few hundred yards in front of the walking person, watching in the back mirror as they slowly made their way towards him.

He rolled down the window when the someone was a few steps away, and then he almost had a heart attack. At least that's what it felt like.

Was he still drunk? It was either that or he was disgustingly dehydrated, because apparently he was now hallucinating. His eyes were clearly deceiving him, he wasn't sure of why. Maybe it was because he really, _really_ wanted it to be her.

Yeah, that must be it. She would probably disappear if he blinked.

So he opened and closed his eyes a few times, rapidly.

Nope.

She was still there.

So it _was_ her. It was really, really _her_.

The girl of his dreams. Literally.

Roxxxy Rocket, or a prettier version of her.

He was sure of it, although she didn't look much like the performer he had given his last cash to as recently as less than twelve hours before.

She wasn't blonde anymore, so his intuition of her wearing a wig the previous night had clearly been correct. She also wasn't as tall anymore, in fact, she was noticeably shorter, and as he looked down, he realized why. Her feet were completely heel-free, the ridiculously high shoes replaced by some beat-up converse that he immediately preferred.

From what he could tell, she wasn't wearing any make-up, and her naturally brown, beautiful hair was pulled back into a semi-messy ponytail, but he couldn't determine whether that was on purpose or not.

Her face was a slight shade of red, most likely from her walk in the sun, her cheeks slightly flustered and it effected him in weird ways.

Her eyes were as big and brown and mesmerizing as he could remember, or perhaps even more so, as the late afternoon sunlight was now reflecting in them, making them less dark but even more beautiful.

Her clothes weren't completely clean, and he could tell that she was tired, and perhaps a bit angry, but the long walk she already had behind her must have also subdued her mood a bit, as she also looked kind of sad.

She was in a very different outfit from earlier the same day, now wearing some short cut-off jeans and a printed t-shirt that probably had been white at some point.

She was so much prettier.

Like, a hundred thousand times more attractive.

Shit.

What were the fucking chances of him finding _her_ walking around in the middle of nowhere?

He really wasn't sure, but _not_ _large_ came to mind.

Did he believe in destiny? No. Yes. Maybe. He wasn't sure. At one point he had, but it hadn't turned out well. Maybe because he had been operating under the false conception that things that were 'meant to be' were always positive, always with a happy ending, when in reality, destiny could be a hung

He wasn't entirely sure that he even believed in happy endings anymore.

Any lingering doubts he had had had evaporated the moment that he realized that it was _her_, disappearing into thin air along with his very heavy hang-over, immeidstely replaced by a surge of really misplaced protectiveness, the exact same odd feeling he had had the previous night, the feeling that it somehow was _his_ job to make sure she would be ok.

He cleared his throat. "Can I help you?"

She stared at him in what he could only assume to be disbelief and she didn't answer.

They stared at each other, through the rolled down car window, for what felt like forever. He was trying to figure out whether she recognized him, as well, but quickly discredited the thought. After all, she probably saw hundreds of men every night, so the probability of her recognizing _him_ was minimal.

He had probably just been another faceless body to her, one of too many in the large crowd.

He cleared his throat, preparing to restate his question when she finally spoke.

"I think there must have been like, I don't know, four hundred cars that passed me by, and I'm currently trying to figure out whether you are a pervert or a serial killer, because those are the only people I can think of who would pick up a complete stranger by the side of a highway. Especially in a state where it is illegal to do so."

He wasn't sure of whether he should feel offended, but as he was kind of trying to figure out his own reasoning, too, he really couldn't blame her.

There was a stream of sweat floating down her forehead, and he could tell that she was probably dying to cool down.

"Ok. You...do you want some water while you think about it?"

She nodded and he handed her one of the semi-cool bottles of water, then watching in stunned disbelief as she opened it and poured some of it over her head, the drops speeding down her tanned skin, mixing with the sweat into a sensual waterfall, and he kind of wanted to lick her.

The water was making her shirt stick to her skinny body, and he could see the outline of her bra through the now semi-sheer material.

"Ah, that's better."

He couldn't do anything but nod in agreement.

He cleared his throat to clear his mind. "So, what's the verdict?"

"Well, you're definitely _not_ a serial killer. Your car is too small and clean for that."

"It's a rental."

"Figures." Her laughter was life and doodled hearts and butterflies.

In his stomach.

"I'm not a pervert either."

"I'm not sure I believe you"

"I'm _not_, I promise."

"Then, what's in it for you?"

He shrugged as he wasn't sure. "Maybe I'm trying to fill my quota for good deeds?" He flashed her an uncertain smile.

"What are you, a saint? An angel looking to earn his wings?"

_That_, he was _not_.

He shrugged again. "Maybe I'm your good karma."

"Doubtful. I don't think I have any of that coming my way."

He laughed but she was still serious.

Oh.

She was still looking at him, as if she was processing something, and then she opened the car door and jumped into the car, throwing her small bag into the backseat without checking whether there was enough space there first.

There was.

Plenty of space.

Enough space for two people to lay, if not next to each other, at least on top of each other.

Not that he was thinking of laying down on top of her in the backseat.

Not at all.

He raised a questioning eye brow at her. "So you decided that I'm not a pervert?"

She shrugged. "Still haven't made up my mind. But it really doesn't matter. _That_ I can handle. _That_ I am used to."

He wasn't sure whether he should laugh or cry at that.

He started driving, pulling back onto the highway, gradually speeding up as he was staring at the road in front of him, trying to focus on anything but her still see-through shirt.

"How long have you been walking for?"

"I don't know. I just woke up, threw some stuff together and started walking."

"Well, where are you going? Do you have a destination in mind?"

"Anywhere but here?" Her laugh sounded a bit sarcastic.

He laughed "I guess I could help you out with that."

She was looking at him again, a small smile on her face.

"So, _Jackson_, have you recovered from last night yet?"

He almost drove off the road.

"You recognize me?"

"Yeah. Believe it or not, there aren't a whole lot of men who have paid me _not_ to dance for them."

Right.

He nodded his head.

"I'm more surprised that _you_ recognize _me_, you were pretty drunk."

He bit his tongue from saying something dumb and cliche about her being unforgettable.

Even if it was true.

Heck, he had even _dreamt_ of her all night (or early day).

(Maybe all his life.)

"How _did_ you know that I did remember you?"

"_Please_. You looked like you had seen a ghost when you saw me. And you were kind of checking me out over there, very similar to how you checked me out last night."

He couldn't deny that, so he just changed the topic.

"So, what's your real name?"

"Ally."

He liked it. It was pretty. Innocent. Ironically, it fit her.

And he liked _her_. But, ironically, that didn't fit him.

"I'm Austin."

She smiled again, and he was once more overcome by the feeling that he recognized her, not from the night before, not as Roxxxy, but as Ally.

Weird.

"So, Austin, where are you, _we_, going?"

The way she said his name made his grip on the steering wheel a bit tighter.

"Well, _I'm_ going to Miami."

"Shut up!" She punched him in the arm and it made him swirl a bit, not from pain but from surprise.

"What?"

"That's where _I'm_ going."

He laughed. "I thought you didn't have a set destination?"

"That's where I'm from. My dad still lives there."

She suddenly turned to look out the window, and he instinctively knew that that that part of their conversation was over.

At least for now.

She spoke again a few minutes later.

"So, why are _you_ going to Miami?"

"That's where I live. I'm heading home."

She nodded. "Most people would fly."

"Yeah. But most people don't have an all-consuming, irrational death-fear of heights or anything involving them, including flying."

"You're scared of heights, but you're not scared of picking up strangers by the road?" She was clearly teasing him.

"I never said it made sense. It's called _irrational_ fear for a reason."

She smiled and he died as they continued to fly down the highway.

"What's with the speeding, are you in a hurry to get home to your girlfriend?"

He shook his head. "I don't have one."

"Oh." She sounded genuinely surprised.

It made him curious.

"Why are you so surprised?"

"I don't know? I guess you look like the type that would have a girlfriend."

"What type is that?"

"The good-looking, well-groomed, too nice one."

He had to clear his throat. Again.

"Well, I don't."

He was grateful that she didn't push the issue any further.

"I'm driving fast, because i was supposed to be on my way hours ago, and my friend was supposed to drive back with me so that we could take turns driving. Now, I have to stop to sleep somewhere, and in all honesty, I just kind of want to get home."

She smiled. "If you want to, _we_ can take turns driving." Something in the way she said it made him look at her.

"Do you have a valid license?"

She nodded her head but he wasn't convinced. At all.

But he knew that sometimes, it was better not to ask too many questions.

_**Arizona - Early evening, and he was suddenly not in such a rush to get home.**_

They had been driving for a few hours, periodically arguing over what radio station to listen to, when she turned towards him.

"Do you have a phone I could use?"

He nodded and reached for the phone, taking it out from his shorts pocket, and handing it to her.

He turned down the radio as she quickly dialed a number that she clearly had memorized by heart.

"Hey. Yeah. Yeah, I had to get out. Yeah, yeah, I love you too."

She hung up and handed it back to him as jealousy, complete and irrational jealousy, shot throw him. She loved somebody.

"Thanks. I had to let my roommate know that I'm gone for good."

Roommate? He sighed in relief, although perhaps only in his mind.

"So, who's the girl?" She sounded innocent.

"What girl?" He had no clue as to what she was talking about.

"The girl that is plastered across your lockscreen."

Oh.

"Someone that used to be important to me."

"_Used_ to?"

"Yeah."

"Aha. That's why she's still on it."

"Force of habit. I've been too busy to change it."

"Sure."

He knew she probably had unanswered questions, but he wasn't going to delve into details about his sad love life with a complete stranger, no matter how comfortable he felt around her.

"How about you? Are you single?"

"There's nobody important enough to be the first thing I see when I make a call, that's for sure. If anything, there may be someone I'm trying to forget."

"So...is that why you are leaving? You're running away from someone?"

She shook her head. "Just my old self."

"Oh."

"Yeah, it's kind of annoying. I mean, that slut is following me around like we are attached to the hip or something."

He laughed. "So you're like a reversed Peter Pan, trying to _lose_ your shadow?"

"I guess. But _this_ Peter Pan grew up a long time ago."

He knew she was joking, but it kind of made him sad.

She was quiet for a minute, as if she was thinking about something.

"Can I borrow your phone again?"

He handed it back to her, because why not.

She pressed a few buttons, and suddenly he could see her making funny faces in his peripheral vision, puckering her lips together, making a ridiculous duck face and he couldn't help but laugh as he realized that she was taking a picture.

She pushed a few more buttons before once again handing it back to him, her hand touching his in the process.

He looked down at his phone and was met by a picture of her. Looking like a duck.

"See? It didn't take long at all. And now you will remember me when this improvised road trip is over."

She smiled and he died.

She reached for the volume button on the radio, turning it back up before leaning back in her seat, already bopping her had to the beat again.

"Ahhh, I _love_ music."

"Me too." He really did.

"It reminds me of when I was younger. I used to work at my dad's music store,. It was called Sonic a Boom, and..."

He stepped on the breaks and made the car donut on the thankfully empty highway, almost driving them off the road, his heart beating faster than the speed of the car that he had almost just flipped over.

"You used to work at _Sonic_ _Boom_?"

She nodded, her eyes big, most likely from the shock of his all but good driving skills.

So he had been right. He _had_ seen her before.

"You. You are _you_. You are the girl who kicked me out of there years ago."

It had been like what, ten years or so, and he still remembered that day, _her_, clearly.

She looked at him and smiled. "It's weird, I had the feeling last night that you looked familiar, but I just figured you had been to the club before."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why would you assume _that_?" It wasn't as if he frequented those type of places.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Come to think of it, you looked kind of uncomfortable."

He had been.

Partially so because he had had a hard-on the size of the hotel they had been staying at.

"I think I remember you. You were with a friend, right? A redheaded guy?"

He nodded. "Yeah. We were going to film a video. It was Dez's idea. I had been talking his ear off about becoming an internet sensation ever since 4th grade, and I guess he felt it was time to do something about it."

"He seems like a good friend." She was still smiling, as he was reversing the car and getting back on the road in the right direction.

"The best. Other than letting me believe that zebras weren't real, he has never let me down."

"I'm sorry I kicked you guys out." She sounded like she meant it.

"Eh. We made the video anyways." He couldn't help but smile at the juvenile memories that often warmed his heart during the too long days in the fucking mattress store flooded his mind. "That was the only video I ever made. I..I might have gone back there a few times to see if you were there but you never were. I never saw you around after that."

"Yeah, I moved away to stay with my mom." She sounded incredibly sad.

He still couldn't believe it. "It really _is_ a small world, huh?"

She started to hum something, and he laughed as he recognized the melody.

"I wasn't talking about the amusement park ride."

Now she laughed. "I know. But I _love_ Disneyworld. I haven't gone there since I was a little girl. My dad used to take me there all the time." She sounded sad yet again and that made him kind of sad.

They continued down the highway, her still humming the catchy signature melody of the just mentioned amusement park ride.

"So, Austin, since the music career didn't work out, what do you do?"

"I...I sell mattresses."

She laughed. Loudly.

"Hey, it's a good job. It's a family business."

"You can try to lie to yourself, but you and I both know that you're bored to death."

She wasn't completely wrong, but rather almost completely right.

"What about you? Was it always your dream to become an..._entertainer_?

She laughed and shook her head. "You don't have to be politically correct around me."

"So...dancer? Stripper?"

"That's not exactly what I would put on my business card, but I guess it works."

"You have a business card?"

"No." She was still laughing as she turned around to look at him, suddenly much more serious.

"And no, that wasn't my dream. Not even close."

He stayed quiet, mostly because he wasn't sure of what to say, and he really didn't know her well enough to ask any of the myriad of questions that were currently procreating in his head.

So they just sat there, watching the outside sky dying like a slow burning fire, until all that could be seen was darkness.

**_New Mexico - Too late at night._**

She was leaning up against his shoulder as they pulled into the parking lot outside of the hotel he had quickly booked online. She had been sleeping for a few hours, on his shoulder as he drove, a small snore escaping her every now and then as he alternated between looking at the road and glancing at her.

She looked innocent, carefree, peaceful, comfortable and so incredibly attractive.

As the car came to a stop, he got the strange feeling that she trusted him, and an even stranger feeling that it really meant something to him that she did.

He got up, momentarily resting her head against the car seat before getting out of the car and walking around it, opening the passenger door and lifting her up, soon carrying her bridal style into the hotel lobby.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N; So I was going to hold off on the sex. But then I read smut, a lot of smut, really smutty smut, and I couldn't stop it from coming out. **

**Really, I tried, but something is clearly wrong with my head because my mind simply can not _not_ go there. **

**So, yeah, this story is now rated M...**

**Chapter 2**

_**Somewhere in New Mexico - Late at night in a hotel lobby at a decently clean hotel.**_

He carried her into the dimly lit lobby, the lateish hour clearly not one that attracted a lot of other guests as the small-sized area was nearly abandoned, the only sign of life being an over-weight, bored-looking, probably middle-aged receptionist, half-way hidden behind the bright green counter.

He needed to put _her_ down somewhere so that he could check in, but he didn't want to wake her up.

He looked around, locating a small couch towards the back of the area and quickly walked over to it.

He couldn't help but notice how light she was. It was as if she weighed _nothing_, as if she was made out of air, and he was scared that she might disappear into it if he didn't hold on to her tightly enough. Literally so.

He set her down, hoping that she wouldn't wake up, but unsuccessfully so as she opened her amazing eyes the same second her nicely formed ass hit the semi-clean looking cushion.

"Sorry." He meant it. She had looked so peaceful.

She stirred, looking a bit disoriented and perhaps a little embarrassed as she yawned, trying to hide her mouth with her dainty hand, looking so innocent that he almost felt like a pervert for being so insanely attracted to her.

"Wait here." He didn't mean to sound demanding. Or maybe he did.

She just nodded in response, still clearly disoriented as her eyes traveled across the small room, before she extended her arms up above her head, soon stretching like a newly-awakened kitten.

Well, in her case, a sex-kitten.

He couldn't look away, although he was repeatedly trying to do so.

Her hair was a mess, her shirt still dirty, her short shorts riding up a bit too high on her nicely tanned legs and he had never ever seen anything sexier. Ever.

How was it even _possible_ that he was so turned on by her?

Riding in a car with her for a few hours had apparently changed things. Many things.

The previous night, he hadn't been wanting to touch her at _all_. Well, maybe not not at all. He had been attracted to her, clearly. But all he really could recall was how much he had been wanting to get her out of that club. But now, when he knew what was hidden underneath that blonde wig, he couldn't think off _anything_ he would rather _do_ than her.

He still felt some of that weird protectiveness, some of that very odd and utterly misplaced possessiveness.

But now he also wanted to bang her. Hard. Up against the light yellow wall in the hotel foyer.

He turned around, grateful that him turning his body prevented her from seeing the by the second size-increasing skyscraper in his shorts.

The receptionist could probably tell, but in all honesty, he doubted that she would even care. She looked like she was sleeping with her eyes open.

_He_ clearly needed to sleep. Yep. That's what he was going to do. He was going to go _straight_ to sleep in one of the two king-size bed that had been promised to him when he booked the room.

"I have a reservation. It's under Moon."

The receptionist nodded.

"Moon?" Her voice was full of surprise, as he realized that she was now standing right next to him.

"Yeah, that's my last name."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"I don't know ...I just...it's kind of an unusual name, but it sounds _so_ familiar."

The sleepy receptionist made a weird noise, and he almost wanted to laugh when she informed them that there had been some mishap with his booking, because they now only had _one_ room with _one_ large bed available for them.

Almost laugh and kind of perhaps punch the poor innocent lady in the face.

He turned to look at his road companion, perhaps to gauge what her reaction to the new information would be.

She was nodding, slowly, ponderously, and he was instantly trying to figure out what she was thinking.

"We can always go to another hotel..." He really didn't want to, but for her, he would.

She shook her head. "No, you've done enough. I'll just...I'll figure something out."

She moved, as if she was getting ready to leave or something, and some weird feelings of panic started to flood through him.

Was she _leaving_? No, no, no. He wasn't ready to say goodbye to her yet. Nor ready to let her walk around outside by herself in the pitch-black, to them unknown neighborhood that they were currently in.

"You can't." He spoke before he had really had the time to think and he could see her react to his statement instantly.

"I _can't_?" Her voice was colored with disbelief.

"I mean...you.._shouldn't_. It could be dangerous."

She raised an eye brow. "_Trust_ me, I can take care of myself. And I don't believe that you, or anyone else for that matter, have the right to tell me what I _can_ and _cannot_ do. Maybe I like danger."

She was running her hands over her clothes, almost as if she was a bit agitated, and as if that would somehow get them to unwrinkle, unsuccessfully so but she _was_ successful in making him hard as fuck once again.

_He_ wanted to run _his_ hands over her.

He shook his head at himself.

He was clearly on the verge of delirium, as he didn't _do_ that.

He didn't _know_ her, and he didn't _do_ one-nighters, at least not anymore.

Perhaps he _should_ let her go.

Maybe that would be better for everyone.

"Wait." Or not. Why the fuck did he sound so desperate?

He turned towards the receptionist while _she_ was walking towards the exit. "Is there a couch in the room?"

The woman mastered up enough energy to nod him a quick yes.

He grabbed her arm as she was still walking towards the doors.

"So that settles that. I'll sleep on the couch." She was looking at him and he knew that he was smiling, he just wasn't sure why.

"You don't have to do that." She was too.

"I _know_ that. But I want to. I'm a gentleman."

"_I_ know _that_. " He wasn't sure he liked the way she said that, mostly because he couldn't tell whether she thought it was a good thing or not.

He hoped so.

And he hoped he could remain a gentleman.

The receptionist handed him the room key and he walked towards the sliding doors.

"I'm going to grab our bags, you can wait here if you want."

She nodded as she walked to the back of the room and sat back down, leaning against the couch, still looking a bit sleepy.

He quickly returned with the bags, heading towards the elevator and nodding for her to follow.

He was almost all the way by them when he felt her hand on his arm, pulling on it in a futile attempt to hold him back.

As if she was strong enough to stop him.

But he came to a halt anyways, turning around and looking at her smiling face.

"Let's have a drink." She was nodding her head in the opposite direction, and he thought he could hear some low music coming from around the corner, from what he could only presume to be the downstairs hotel bar.

He shook his head. Repeatedly. "Are you _crazy_?"

She laughed. "Is that a rhetorical question?"

"I'm on my way back home from a weekend of insanity, where I have probably drank my ration of liqueur for a fucking life time, or maybe two, and you're asking me to have another drink? I need to _sleep_."

"Don't be such a party pooper." She was twirling her beautiful, brown hair around one of her fingers as she was teasing him, in more ways than one, and although he wasn't entirely sure of whether she was doing it on purpose or not, it was distracting him and made it very difficult to think.

His resolve was weakening substantially by the second.

"But I'm pretty sure I already have some severe liver damage."

"Then you're already fucked anyways, so what's the harm in having another drink?"

Her flawed logic and her cursing kind of turned him on. More.

He reluctantly agreed, trying to ignore the wave of tiredness that was rippling through him, partially because he really didn't want to be alone with her in a hotel room and partially because he really, really did.

"_One_ drink." He sounded determined and she smiled and turned around.

She walked ahead of him, towards the low music and the bar, leading the way until he almost knocked her over, as she came to an abrupt stop in front of him, turning around with a small smile on her face.

"Austin?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't ever tell me what I can and cannot do. There's only one place I can think of where that is appropriate, and that's in bed."

She started walking again and he followed, trailing closely behind her in his once again way too tight shorts.

**_A hotel bar in New Mexico - Definitely late at night, but he wasn't as tired anymore or maybe he was so far passed the point of exhaustion that he simply didn't give a shit._**

They took a seat at one of the high-top tables, her legs dangling off the high barstool while his feet graced the floor, both of them simultaneously scanning the nicely decorated bar area, and he quickly determined that he liked it. There really wasn't that many people there, most likely because of the late hour, but the semi-loud music flooding out from the nearby speaker was nice and a few dimly lit lights giving the room a surprisingly intimate feel.

Their eyes landed on each other and he quickly looked away.

"Thank you so much, Austin. Really. I _literally_ don't know _where_ I would be right now without you."

He laughed.

"What _was_ your plan when you were walking along that highway?"

She shrugged. "Honestly, I didn't really have one. I had promised myself not to jump into a car with a guy, for obvious reasons, but once I recognized you from last night, I figured, what the heck. You can't be _that_ bad."

He couldn't help but smile, partially because of the irony of it all, as there were currently some very, _very_ bad things he wanted to do to her.

She called the waitress over. "_My_ treat. Some idiot paid me a lot of money not to dance for him last night." She had a teasing smile on her face.

His eyes met hers again, not looking away this time. "Did you end up taking the rest of the night off?"

She nodded in confirmation. "Yeah."

He leaned in towards her. "Then that was the best money that idiot has ever spent."

A minute passed as his eyes weren't just magnetized but freaking hot glued to hers, the sort-of -tension between them somehow increasing by the millisecond, only to be interrupted by the waitress (un)timely arrival.

Shit.

And they weren't even drunk.

At least not yet.

She was still looking at him. "So, what's your poison?"

He started to think that maybe _she_ was. But like, in a good way. She was intoxicating, addictive, she was _clearly_ killing him, and he was pretty sure she could give him quite an extensive hang-over.

"I'll just have a beer, please." He needed to stay as sober as possible if he was going to have any chance of controlling himself around her.

She wrinkled her nose in disapproval, and it was so damn cute that he kind of wanted to kiss her.

Maybe just being as sober as possible wasn't enough.

"Don't be a lame-o." She was teasing him again, and for some reason he liked it.

"A what?"

"A _lame_-_o_. If you're only going to have _one_ drink, at least make it something strong."

He shook his head as he turned towards the waitress. "Fine. I'll have Whiskey. On the rocks."

She ordered something sweet and strong, which he for some reason thought kind of fit her.

The drinks quickly arrived, most probably because the bar was all but busy, and she hit her glass against his in a too joyful cheer before taking a sip.

He smiled and raised his glass to his too dry mouth, allowing the brownish liquid to hit his throat, despite promising himself on _countless_ occasions over he last few days that he would never drink again, the by now all too familiar, burning sensation immediately spreading throughout his body as rapid fire.

He noticed that she was making scrunchy faces, as if she was disgusted by something, and he soon realized that said something was the drink she was holding.

"You don't like it?"

"I do, but it's _so_ strong."

"Really?"

She nodded. "I'm kind of a light weight." She giggled. "I don't drink much."

He wasn't sure whether she could tell that he was surprised by that or not, but he thoroughly was.

"You don't believe me." So she did notice.

Figured.

He didn't have that great of a poker face, after all.

"It's just, your...last place of...employment wasn't necessarily...a _sober_ environment."

She shook her head. "Maybe not for _you_. _I_ don't drink on the job."

That kind of surprised him, too. "Really?"

"Yeah. Drinking makes it harder to..." she suddenly stopped mid-sentence, as if she had been thinking out loud and suddenly realized that whatever she was about to say might bother him.

"To _what_?"

"Defend myself." She wasn't looking at him anymore, and he felt adrenaline pump through his body.

"Have you ever _had_ to _defend_ yourself?"

"Yeah." She still wasn't looking at him.

He was mad, so fucking angry, the thought of someone, _anyone_, touching her against her will almost making him nauseous, and he could have sworn that he felt the taste of bile in his throat.

He knew his emotions were written all over her face, as she gently touched his arm.

"Don't worry about it. Please stop whatever this moping is and _entertain_ me instead. This is my first night off in weeks."

The quick thought of _entertaining_ her crossed through his mind, and he couldn't help but smile, her immediately noticing.

"Oh, hey there, dimples, nice to meet you."

He shook his head in disapproval. "Please don't talk to my dimples as if they're people."

She giggled, the too strong drink clearly already working its magic.

"Chip and Dale."

"What?"

She reached to touch his face, running her pointer finger over his cheeks.

"This is Chip", her finger was running down the left side of his face "and this is Dale".

She graced his right one.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "They're my favorite Disney characters. And your dimples are adorable, just like those chipmunks."

He wasn't sure that her calling him adorable was necessarily a good thing, but he couldn't stop smiling nonetheless, maybe because _she_ was adorable or perhaps because she was still laughing and it was kind of contagious.

"You know, most girls favor the princesses."

"Then I guess I'm not like most girls."

_That_ he was already well aware of.

"Why?"

"Because my dream in life is not to sit around in some freaking castle, waiting for some cheesy-looking prince on a dumb-looking horse to come and pick me up and ride off into the sunset."

He was silently wondering if perhaps said prince could be someone who picked her up by the side of the road, though, not on a horse but in a nice enough rental car.

The drinks were finished.

"Refill?" She sounded hopeful.

He nodded, almost on reflex.

The waitress delivered the next round, the drink cool in his hand as he stirred it, the already melting ice cubes moving in a circular dance, spinning like his head, while making a small noise against the low glass, as he was trying to decide which one of his million and one questions to ask her next.

"So, why _Roxxxy_ _Rocket_?"

She shrugged. "I had to come up with something quickly, and that first day, there was this poster on the outside wall, advertising a foreign performer, I think she might have been Swedish or something like that, and I thought it fit so I kind of just went with it."

He nodded. "So, what about the wig?"

She shrugged again."It gives me confidence. A different persona, you know. Like, it's not _me_ up on that stage, it's _Roxxxy_, my complete opposite, insane and hot and sexy and confident."

He disagreed about them being opposites. At least about the hot and sexy part.

Possibly the insane one too, he wasn't quite sure yet.

A minute passed, both of them looking at their drinks and once again not at each other.

"So, are you going to tell me about her?" She sounded

"Who?" He asked although he was pretty sure he knew _exactly_ who she was talking about.

"Former lock screen girl. The one who broke your heart."

Fuck. Was it that fucking obvious?

"I don't know if she broke my heart. More like she broke me dreams."

She nodded. "So tell me about her."

He shrugged. "What do you want to know?"

"Where did you guys meet?"

_That_ was easy. "In college."

"You mean you _didn't_ meet her at a strip club? I thought that's where all great love stories began."

She laughed.

He didn't, because he was slowly starting to think so, too.

"So tell me more."

"I don't know. I guess we were the golden couple. My parents adored her, loved her. If I was the crown prince to their business, they viewed her as the future queen."

"So...what happened?"

"Turned out I wasn't her happy ending."

"Oh, so the old 'it's not you, it's me craving someone else's dick?'"

He flinched, partially because of her crudeness and partially becuase of the accuracy of what she was saying. He really hoped that she didn't notice. "She was apparently kind of craving it when we were still together, too."

He shrugged, as if it was no big deal although it really kind if was.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." She looked miserable and he almost wanted to laugh.

"No, no, it's ok. I...I just really haven't talked much about it."

"Why?"

He shrugged again. "Well, Dez never liked her, he kept on going on and on about how she wasn't the right person for me and that I was just in love with the _thought_ of us and that in reality she was a bitch. And obviously, he was right. My parents, on the other hand, missed her too much. It's been months, and i think they still miss her. It was as of they lost the daughter they never had."

"Do _you_ miss her?"

He hesitated, mostly because he really wasn't sure. "I think I miss what I thought we had."

"It sounds to me like you're better off Without her. True love doesn't exist, anyways."

It kind of pissed him off how matter-of-factly she said it.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because when it comes down to it, we are all egoistic beings. We loudly claim that we would die for someone else, that we would take a bullet for them, but in the end, if it really came down to it, most of us wouldn't. We would stand there, frozen, terrified, unable to react, let our _loved_ ones suffer and die, and then spend the rest of our miserable lives wishing we would have made a different decision. Luckily, most of us won't be in situations where we have to prove anything, so we can get by on empty promises."

She was twirling some of her messy hair around her finger again as she finished speaking, soon sipping on the drink, licking the rim of the glass while he was once again getting a hard-on the size of the large hotel they were currently staying at.

"You're probably the smartest stripper I have ever met." He knew he was getting drunk as he felt comfortable enough to use the term around her.

She laughed and almost choked on her drink. "How many strippers have you met?"

"Not many."

She smiled, a sad one this time. "I was a straight A student once."

She suddenly looked so vulnerable yet so strong, and he was hit by the feeling that he wanted to know everything about her, her favorite color, her music taste, how old she was when she had her first kiss.

Mmmmm, kissing...

Focus.

"Som what brought you to Vegas?"

"Love. I followed someone there like a lost puppy."

"I thought you didn't believe in that, in _love_."

"Exactly. I _don't_. I went from lost puppy to homeless puppy in the matter of a month."

He smiled to himself as he realized that she did not _not_ believe in love, she was just a cynical romantic, the result of a few too many broken dreams.

Kind of like himself.

"So what was her name?"

"Huh?" For a second he had no clue of who she was talking about.

"The cheating bitch."

"Oh...Cassidy."

She made a face. "Eww, I don't like it. It sounds like a stripper name."

"_You_ would know".

She laughed and poked him in the arm while his dick poked his pants.

"You're cute, you know that?"

That was two. Two strikes. _Cute_ and _adorable. _He was clearly fast-tracking towards the, if not _friend_-zone, at least the _acquaintance_-zone.

His feelings were ambiguous, as he was both kind of relieved and disappointed.

She turned to him, a hint of rose on her cheeks, her hair falling into her face and he had to physically restrain himself by fisting his hand to keep from reaching up and touching it.

"So,let's be serious for a minute..." Her giggles were discrediting what she had just said. "What would _your_ stripper name be?"

All he could do was shake his head.

"I have never thought about that, I don't know."

_"I_ would pay good money to see that, though. That would be _hot_. And _I_ wouldn't turn down an offer for a private dance."

He almost choked.

"What?" Maybe he wasn't so stuck, after all.

She didn't answer as she was giggling again. "I got it."

"What?"

"Austin _Moan_." And she broke out into another fit of contagious laughter, himmjoining her, several minutes passing before she calmed down.

And then she ordered another round.

"Austin?"

"Yeah?"

"I get really horny when I drink."

**_New Mexico, Elevator, somewhere between the first and second floor - it was probably already early morning but certain parts of him were clearly awake._**

The elevator was small, but he was pretty sure that in this specific instance, size didn't matter, as they could have had the entire freaking British palace to themselves, and he would still not want to be more than a millimeter away for her.

As it was, she was standing on the other side of it, leaned up against the wall, her bag thrown on the floor next to his.

He was trying to focus his eye sight while trying to unsuccessfully count how many rounds of drinks they had had.

He settled on too many.

"So, did you like what you saw yesterday?"

He swallowed hard. "What do you mean?"

"Did you enjoy the show?"

At first he didn't know what she was asking.

"What do you mean?"

"Yesterday, at the club, did you like watching me dance?"

She suddenly sounded very unsure.

"Why do you ask?"

She didn't answer at first. "I guess it's kind of obvious that you didn't." Her voice was low and she wouldn't look at him.

"Why do you say that? You don't think I'm attracted to you?" He noticed that he was slurring a bit.

"I don't _know_, that's why I'm asking. I get the feeling that you're trying to avoid me or something."

"I can't think of one single man on the surface of the earth who wouldn't be attracted to you."

"But I'm not talking about all men, I'm talking about _you_. Are _you_...attracted to me?"

He nodded, becuase his level of functioning in terms of speaking was suddenly very, very low.

In difference from some other...functions, that were getting higher by the minute.

She walked over to him. "Really?" There was a small smile on her face now.

"Trust me, I'm very, very attracted to you, Ally, but..."

And then she pressed her body into his.

So he was _clearly_ not stuck in the acquintence-zone. He was still ambiguous, though, as now he wasn't sure of whether he was happy or terrified.

"But _what_? What's so wrong with having some _fun_?"

He couldn't really remember anymore. But then again, he really couldn't remember other things, either, such as his first name, or last name, his whole mind a complete blur of arousal as she pressed her body tightly into his again.

"Fuck."

He hadn't meant to curse, at least not out loud.

She smirked, as if she enjoyed seeing him in almost physical pain.

"Not yet, but a girl can dream." Her voice was a sensual whisper in his ear, her scent tickling his nostrils.

She reached up towards his face.

"Hello Chip." She placed a soft kiss on the left side of his face.

"Hello Dale". Right side.

"Hello Austi..."

Her voice disappears into his mouth as he kissed her, hard, and _he_ was so fucking hard, but there really wasn't any surprise there, and _she_ didn't seem too surprised, either, as he was stabbing her leg with his hard-on, his back up against the wall as he was pulling her even closer, pressing her body into his as if she couldn't get close enough.

She tasted _different_ and sweet and _wonderful, _and he knew that if they kept on, there would be no going back and he wasn't completely sure of how he felt about that But he also knew that there was no was in hell he was going to stop.

And then they reached their floor.

_**New Mexico, Room 811 - Probably early morning, he really had no clue. **_

He had her pinned up against the room door, lifting her up slightly, pinning her body between the wood material of the door and his very own version of that same material, as they continued to engage in the hottest foreplay that he could recall ever having.

They weren't just kissing, they were freaking eating each other's mouths.

His hands were traveling underneath her short shorts, his roughish fingers a sharp contrast to her soft skin and he almost lost it when she moaned.

He heard a door open somewhere in the hallway and he instinctively pulled away, breathing heavily as he fumbled for the room key and opened the door.

He entered the room, behind her, throwing his bag down on the _one_ bed before he excused himself to walk into the small bathroom, needing to think for a minute, needing to clear his head, needing to calm down in more ways than one.

As he stood in front of the large bathroom mirror, he splashed his face with some ice-cold water, futilely hoping that _that_ would somehow snap him out of his by hornyness and alcohol created fog. Nope. Didn't work. He was still so fucking horny.

He could still taste her, his mouth almost watering at the mere thought of the taste of her skin, his fingers tingling, aching to touch her again.

And then he suddenly recalled that moment in the car, just a few hours ago, that moment when he had felt like she trusted him.

_Fuck_.

He was going to go out there, going to apologize for losing his composure in the elevator, and then he was going to go to sleep on the too narrow and too short couch, wake up in the morning and drive as fast as he could to Miami.

If he didn't look at her, there was a slim possibility that he would be able to control himself enough not to fuck her fast and hard into tomorrow.

Yep, that was what he was going to do.

He exited the bathroom, turning off the light before closing the door behind him, noticing that the room was as dark as he had left it apart from the TV now being turned on.

He looked around before he saw her. She was standing by the window, her back to him, the slightly opened, floor-length curtains framing her petite body on each side.

She was still wearing her t-shirt and short shorts, but she was significantly taller than he could recall, and as he looked down towards the floor, he realized that she was wearing those damn heels, the same heels she had been wearing the night before.

And she was also wearing a wig, a long, blonde wig, the length of it hitting her waist, the slim waist that he suddenly got the urge to lick all around.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, a small smile on her face and he saw that she was holding something in her hand.

His phone.

She pressed a button and some to him unfamiliar tune immediately filled the small room, a much slower and sensual song than what she had danced to the previous night and he immediately loved it.

She started to move as he sat down on the nearby bed, soon falling back on it, his back propped up on the numerous pillows, leaving him in a half-sitting position as he was almost droolingly ogling the incredibly sexy woman in front of him, the woman who was currently swaying her hips to the seductive music, her back still turned to him.

He couldn't deny that he enjoyed it, he really, really did, but something, he wasn't sure _what_, was bothering him, increasingly so with each passing second.

And then her shirt was off. And he was so, so on.

But he was still bothered.

She was half-way through the song when he pinpointed it, immediately getting off the bed and almost running towards her, swayingly so, grabbing her and pulling on the long,blonde wig, almost violently so.

She stopped dancing and turned off the music while looking at him with a confused expression on her face. "What's wrong?"

"I don't give a _fuck_ whether you take off another piece of clothing or not, but _this_ needs to come off." He tugged on the wig again.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want a damn _fantasy_, I want reality, I want _you_. I want _Ally_."

"But _why_?"

"Because you're fucking amazing."

She smiled and complied, quickly removing the long strands, the wig falling to the floor like a bowl of spilled spaghetti, barely hitting the floor before he pushed up against the wall, roughly, his hips immediately bulldozing her half-naked body in fast, determined rolls, almost as if he was trying to stick her to the wall, his hands running over her bare waist and he could feel her whole body respond to his touch.

He broke away.

What the fuck was he doing.

It was so wrong.

It felt so, so right, though.

But he shouldn't. _They_ shouldn't. He had just fucking met her.

Or just fucking met her again.

Whatever.

It really didn't matter, because regardless, he wanted to fuck her senseless, all the resolutions that he had adhered to non-failingly throughout the last few months as far away as his comfy two-story home that was the final destination of their road trip, the road trip that had suddenly turned _much_ more adventurous than he could have ever imagined.

But he really, really wanted her, so he kissed her again, deeply, his toungue exploring her mouth in wet licks.

She pushed him away _just_ as he was about to lose his last ounce of self-control, pushing him backwards towards the bed until he was sitting down on it.

"_Patience_. I'm not finished yet."

But _he_ almost was.

She pressed the phone and restarted the music, her hips quickly falling back into the rhythm of it, and he got lost in her, lost in time.

Before he knew it, she had lost all her clothing, except for a teeny piece of lace fabric strategically placed between her lick-worthy legs.

And _he_ had lost almost all his mind.

"Come here."

He obliged, scooting towards her where she was standing at the edge of the bed, until his legs were hanging off of the side of it as she spread them apart, positioning herself between them as he propped himself up on his arms.

She turned around, her back to him once more, as she restarted the music and started to move, her ass rubbing up against him, against his way too hard dick, grinding into him in ways that he was unable to accurately describe as he was at a complete loss of words.

The song finished and she turned back around, facing him, her thumb tracing the hem of her underwear, lingering there for a second before she began to pull them down, slowly running the lacy fabric down her leg, letting the black material caress her skin, her eyes on him and his eyes all-over her, tracking the path of the thongs until they hit the floor.

And then she was completely naked, apart from those damn heels, and he was completely and undoubtedly insane.

She was still standing between his legs as she reached for the button of his shorts, her breasts practically in his face and he leaned forward to capture one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking on it almost desperately as she continued to undress him.

She interrupted his sucking-session by pulling the shirt off of him, his tank top soon resting next to her underwear on the wooden floor.

She pulled on his arm, making him stand up and removing his pants and boxers in one quick pull, rendering him completely naked and speechless, before pushing him back down on the bed.

Before he could even breath, she was on top of him, straddling him, her hips rolling into his this time around, her mouth in his and although he was a nice guy, he wasn't a fucking saint. There was a beautiful, incredible, sexy woman on top of him, naked, and although he did question whether he was doing the right thing, there was no question of _what_ he, what _they, _were going to do.

She moaned as she continued to roll her hips into him, and he could have sworn that she was a singer, because her noises of pleasure were music to his ears.

She aligned herself with his dick, her mouth still glued to his, and he suddenly became really nervous so he grabbed her face.

"I...I haven't been with anyone for a while, I...haven't slept with anyone since Cassidy and...actually, I haven't even kissed anyone since then, and..."

He couldn't really see her, the room still semi-dark, but he could _feel_ her smile into the all but innocent kiss that she delivered.

"Don't worry, it's like riding an old bike. You'll get right back into it. " She ran her tounge against his neck.

He knew that she's might be many things, but she was _definitely_ not an old bike.

She rubbed her wet pussy up against him and he could no longer think.

"I...are you...do _you_ really want to..."

"Dont overthink it. Just think of me and you together as...stress relief."

He was suddenly very, very stressed.

And in a very, very deep need of relief.

She was still grinding her hips into him, gloriously so, and he was overcome by the need of knowing what her insides felt like.

"Tell me what to do, Austin."

"Me." He wasn't speaking, he was groaning.

And then she lowered himself on top of him and he was in her.

He was _in_ her.

He kind of wanted to scream out loud, the sensations produced by her tight wetness so fucking amazing that he almost came immediately, months of underlying sexual frustration suddenly surfacing.

As it turned out, _he_ was the bike, as she rode him, in the rhythm to his too rapid heart beat, his large hands holding her hips in place and it felt som so good and so, so bad all at the same time. He couldn't really remember sex ever being like that, completely intimate and raw and non-emotional but still emotional, and just so fucking _good_.

She was massaging his aching dick with her wet insides as he reached for her.

He used to be good at this, or at least he had thought so, and he might be a bit rusty, but he was going to make it memorable for her even if it took all fucking night.

He found and rubbed her clit, in quick circles, and he could feel her tighten around him, squeezing him, her pussy hugging him even tighter as her moans grew increasingly louder, until he could feel her cum undone around him.

He immediately flipped them around, finally taking charge, his dick not leaving her pussy even for a second, her back pressing into the mattress as he increased his speed, making her scream as he continued to harshly pound her while she finished out her high, the bed frame banging up against the adjasecent wall, announcing to their room neighbors and perhaps the rest of the building _exactly_ what they were currently doing.

Not that he gave a fuck.

A small voice in the very, very back of his mind was questioning if maybe he was hurting her, but by the way she was running her fingers over his sweaty back, her nails digging into his skin like darts of fucking animalistic pleasure, her short breath hitting his neck, her teeth gracing his jawline, nibbling a bit harder when he was hitting her hard, he figured that wasn't the case.

Holy fucking shit.

The small but bright light from the TV was still stabbing the darkness of the room as he came, hard, for the first time in _months_ under the touch of someone else, his scream filling her ear and his seed filling her pussy as he exploded deep inside of her, shooting himself empty between her slick, vibrating walls and he was biting her neck, most likely mark-leavingly so, his dick still pulsating in pleasure.

He pulled out, laying down flat on his back as he was breathing heavily.

Yes, he was drunk, and yes, he might not have done it if he hadn't been, but shit was he happy that he had.

He turned over and held her until her breathing evened out, then falling into a deep, peaceful sleep.

**_New Mexico , Hotel room 811 - Early in the morning but perhaps not as early as he had planned._**

He woke up in the morning, reluctantly so, the seemingly ever-present head ache greeting him in painful brain stabs and he kind of wanted to vomit.

He quickly recalled the past night's events in his hang-over mind.

Fuck.

He had fucked her.

He had fucked her _hard_.

He looked around and realized that she was no longer there.

Panic hit him, like a fucking truck, various ways of trying to find her flashing through his hurting head, until he soon realized that he didn't even know her last name.

He walked over towards the bathroom, his legs shaking a bit as he suddenly felt incredibly nauseous, and he was on the verge of throwing up when something in the nearby small trash basket caught his attention.

Something bright.

It was a blonde, long wig.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N; So this chapter marks half-way through the story. I think. I honestly still haven't really decided exactly how long this will be, but I think around 5 chapters.**

**_New Mexico, Hotel Room 811 - Early in the morning and definitely not as early as he had planned._**

His heart was working at a fast speed, like a high-powered oil pump, the blood flowing through his head feeling almost as thick as that dark substance. His pulse was beating too loudly in his ear, as he was trying to think through the headache that was know joining the nausea in a well-deserved morning-after payback scheme.

She had left. She had fucking _left_.

And she had left the wig behind. In the garbage.

He was torn, as the placement of the blonde strands was not just a _little_ bit symbolic, and that made him happy. The fact that she no longer had a need for her aliased persona, and the thought of her confidence being strong enough to leave the wig behind, almost made him smile.

But the fact that she had also left _him_ behind did not.

_That_ kind of made him mad. And angry. And sad.

Not that he had any sort of claim on her, no right to ask her to stay, and no real reason for even wanting her to.

But _some_ sort of goodbye would have been nice.

Fuck, he was such a girl.

He needed to snap lit of it.

Anyways, it wasn't like a formal goodbye would really make it any better, as he didn't really want to say goodbye at all. He had this feeling, or maybe it was just a dumb, childish wish (whatever), that they weren't finished with each other yet.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He felt like kicking something, maybe himself, but that would be kind of difficult, so he settled on the small, metal, by-the-wall garbage can instead. He aimed and kicked it, hard, catapulting it into the wall, the sound of metal hitting wood hurting his head a bit more than he had anticipated as the blonde, long wig flew out of it and landed on the grayish carpet in a splattered pile of silk-like strands.

He stopped in his tracks and stared at that damn wig for only God knows how long.

He kind of wanted to burn it.

But he didn't want to get arrested for arson, and it wasn't as if he had a lighter around.

He wasn't a smoker.

So instead he let it lay there, spread wide on the carpet, as he finally made his way into the small bathroom. His reflection was immediately and stubbornly staring back at him in the large mirror. He felt like he looked deadly pale despite his ever-present and usual tan, the tan that came free of charge, courtesy of the year-round sunny weather in his southern home town.

He looked about as good as he felt, which was oddly similar to a hot place, a very hot place, located deep underground.

Or so he had been told.

He splashed his face, in a very similar fashion to how he had done it the night before, with the same purpose of clearing his head, only this time around, his thoughts were reversed.

The night prior, he had been determined to stay away from her (unsuccessfully so), while as now, he would probably jump off the freaking small hotel room balcony if only it meant he could see her again.

Just because _he_ didn't necessarily believe in one-nighters, obviously didn't mean that _she_ didn't. Actually, clearly, she _did_, as she was the one who had left.

Ahhhhhhhhhh.

He _knew_ his initial instincts had been right. He shouldn't have slept with her. Maybe then, she would have stuck around.

It was weird, because he kind of missed her.

Ahhhhhhhhhh.

He needed to man the fuck up. Their night together meant _nothing_. It was just _sex_.

Like, really good sex that kind of made him hard again just by simply thinking about it. The way she had moved on top of him, the way the slight moisture of her skin had rubbed up against his, the way her pussy had vibrated around him when he had made her cum...

Ahhhhhhhhhh.

He needed a cold shower. Immediately.

The cool water was very successful in cleaning his still sweaty body, half-way so in reducing his hard-on, and not at all in regards to clearing his mind.

He finished and wrapped the white hotel towel around his waist, some drops of water soon running down his chest from his still wet hair, tickling him, tickling his skin, reminding him of her nails running against it in a similar manner not even ten hours prior.

He laid back on the bed, the _one_ king-size bed, not to sleep but in an attempt to collect his scattered thoughts. His head was pounding, and _other_ parts of him were throbbing, as he he couldn't stop thinking of the previous night.

Physically, he felt weirdly satisfied, yet oddly craving more, as if her body on him, his body in her, had awakened some dormant cravings that he didn't even really know he had had.

But his head was full of non-satisfactory questions and thoughts that he was unsuccessfully and desperately trying to push away.

He finally got up, moving to look out the mid-size room window, only to realize that the morning sun had now turned into an early day one.

Crap.

He needed to get going.

With a heavy head, he got dressed, carrying his bag and the weight of the world on his broad shoulder as he exited the room, casting one last, quick glance at the dead-looking wig coming to it's final rest on the soft floor.

He sighed.

It was going to be a long, lonely drive home.

**_New Mexico - Not even close to as early as he had planned (but then again, that wasn't surprising as his life didn't seem to go according to his plans at all as of late), in a hotel lobby at a decently clean hotel._**

The loud noise from the elevator doors shooting open at the bottom floor felt like fucking drill-bits pounding into his head.

So maybe, just maybe, he was still a bit hang-over.

He went over to the front desk to check out. The youngish, all but friendly-looking receptionist popped his bubblegum in a too loud pop before boringly turning towards him, soon informing him in a monotone voice that the room had already been paid for by someone else.

Apparently, a "sexy piece of ass" had already taken care of it.

There was only one person he semi-knew that fit that description.

He turned away as the lanky teenager continued to talk, suddenly not as monotone.

"And _I_ would really like to take care of _her_, if you know what I mean."

He didn't even turn back around to look at the pimple-face as jealousy rose in him, to the point where he really, really wanted to punch the obnoxious bastard in the face, but he took a deep breath and managed to control himself.

He didn't want to get arrested for assault any more than he wanted to get arrested for arson.

His fist was a reluctant prisoner in his shorts pocket as he continued to walk towards the exit.

What was it with her bringing out the usually non-existent, aggressive side in him?

His nostrils fluttered a few times and his stomach growled in response to the smell of the nearby buffet brunch filling the air, and he suddenly felt like throwing up again.

He leaned up against the wall, his head spinning and hurting at the same time.

The thought of eating made him incredibly nauseous.

He had lost his morning appetite at the same moment as he had lost her.

He exited the building.

It was going to be a long, lonely drive home.

**_New Mexico, in a hot hotel parking lot - a few minutes later, only a couple of hundred yards away from the hotel lobby, but it felt like a god damn marathon for him to get there._**

He made his was towards the car, at first walking off in the wrong direction as he for a split second was not able to recall where he had parked the night before.

A light sweat immediately broke out on his now seemingly permanently wrinkled forehead.

He finally located the car, and as he was making his way towards it, he could have sworn that there was something located on top of it.

He really needed to drink more water as he was fucking seeing things again.

As he got closer, though, he realized that he hadn't been wrong.

There _was_ something located on the top of his car.

Someone was sitting on it.

A cat.

A kitten.

A sex kitten.

She, the sexiest kitten of all, was back, stretched out on the hood of the car.

She looked graceful, and for a second he thought he could almost hear her purr.

"Hello there, stranger."

It hurt him how much that statement rang true.

He fought his initial and very strong instinct of hugging her and then discretely fuck her up against the now dirtish rental car, so as it was, he settled on a semi-awkward wave.

He felt like an idiot, and even more so as she immediately started laughing at him.

"Took you long enough, dork."

His heart was beating hard, oil pump mode once again, but this time around it was not due to panic but to relief.

His hang-over was suddenly manageable, still bad, but not to the point where he felt sick.

He wiped some sweat off of his forehead.

The sun was approaching but not yet in zenith, but it was still hot as hell. And he was talking about the outside temperature, although the description was more than accurate for his current company as well.

The rays from said sun were kissing the skin of her bare legs.

Fuck, _he_ wanted to kiss those damn legs.

"I thought you had left." His throat was too dry and it kind of hurt to speak.

She smiled. "Where would I go?"

He was just going to pretend that he had _not_ spent the better part of the morning trying to figure the answer to that question out.

She was smiling at him, intentionally teasingly and probably unintentionally seductively.

"Why did you leave the room?"

She shrugged. "I couldn't sleep. You, on the other hand, are a deep sleeper."

He wasn't. At least not usually.

In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had had as good of a night's sleep.

"You've been out here the whole time?" His voice sounded a bit whiny, or perhaps annoyed,like a little kid who had been looking everywhere for his favorite toy, only to find out that it had been right in front of him the whole time.

Not that she was his toy. But anyways.

She shook her head, her brown waves bouncing against her chest. "No, I ate something.

And then I kept my self entertained by talking to Elliot".

"Who?" He was already jealous again. It was fucking ridiculous.

"The receptionist."

Aha.

She jumped off of the hood, her converse making the roadside dirt fly in a dusty cloud around them, before she turned to him and coincidentally turned him on (further) as well.

Her shorts were still short, her shirt a differently colored and much cleaner replica of the one that she had been wearing the day before, her hair in imperfect waves down her shoulders. Her face was once again make-up and wrinkle free, and his forehead started to resemble hers, as her smile was contagious, and it was surprisingly difficult to frown and smile at the same time.

"Should we get going?"

He just nodded as he clicked the key and opened the car, both of them soon climbing into it on opposite sides.

As he slowly reversed out of the parking spot, he suddenly remembered something.

"You paid for the room?"

She nodded. "That's the least I could do for you driving me all the way back home. Besides, I didn't want you to think that I slept with you out of gratitude or something."

"Why did you?" The question came out of his mouth before he had had time to really think it through.

"What?"

"Why did you sleep with me?"

She shrugged. "Because I wanted to."

Huh.

And then they rode in silence, the revving engine blending with the low, staticky radio music, as he focused on everything but her and she seemed to focus on something far off in the distance.m

He was speeding, but only slightly so.

They had gotten off to a very late start.

It was going to be a long, but thankfully not lonely, drive home.

**_New Mexico, close to the Texas border, at a roadside diner, early afternoon._**

They had been riding in said semi-silence for a couple of hours, the undeniable tension between them slowly brewing, approaching the boiling point at the same rate as the outside, scorching, and still gradually increasing temperature.

He didn't really know what to say, not sure whether talking about the previous night would ease or increase the tension, so he stayed quiet.

And so did she.

He sighed in relief as he saw an advertisement billboard for a roadside restaurant, soon pulling over outside of it, not only because he was now freaking starving, but also because he needed space. Literally.

The fairly large-sized rental car suddenly felt smaller than a toddler's shoebox.

The overly-happy waitress showed them the way to their table and they sat down, across from each other, and he was grateful for having some distance.

Not that that kept him from wanting to kiss her and hold her and take her there, bent over the roadside restaurant's rectangular table.

He wouldn't even mind the waitress watching.

She was so damn chipper that she would probably just cheer them on.

_She_ remained quiet, not really looking at him while scanning the menu as if it was a literal masterpiece that she didn't want to miss one single word of.

He ordered pancakes because why the hell not. She ordered fried pickles.

He had never even heard of that before, but it sounded really disgusting.

The food arrived quicker than he had expected and they both immediately dug in.

She was making small faces of pure delight and a couple of humming noises that he worked hard on pretending didn't effect him in the slightest.

She finally spoke. "Ah, I haven't had these for years."

"Why not?" He was curious as it was clear that she loved them.

And he was kind of happy that she was speaking to him again.

"My line of work doesn't necessarily allow for a fried food diet."

"So...does this mean that you're taking a permanent break from your...line of work?"

She nodded. "I left the wig, didn't I?"

He nodded. "You did."

She smiled. "Come to think of it, it's kind of because of you that I'm here, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"You...you made me think. That last night at the club, what you did. encouraging me to take the night off. But I quickly realized that I didn't just need the _night_ off, I needed a break from my entire life, you know?"

He _did_ know, because sometimes he had that exact same feeling.

The fact that their quick and serendipitous encounter had made a seemingly positive change in her life pleased him to no end.

For a quick second, he once again reflected on the utter and complete _insanity_ of him not only running into her again, but also picking her up on the side of a highway, far far far from home.

"So, are those any good?" He pointed towards her plate while he wrinkled his nose, almost on reflex.

"Here, try this." She reached out the funky looking stick towards him, almost rubbing it on his nose and the smell made him cover his face.

"No thanks. I like to live."

She laughed, loudly, and he died.

Again.

But he really didn't mind.

So much for wanting to live.

"I'm glad we're talking again. I don't think I could have stayed quiet for much longer."

He smiled as well. "Me too."

She took another bite and he decided to set one of the in his head trapped questions free.

"So, you started in Miami and ended up in Vegas. Any stops in between?"

"Eh. A couple of one way streets and several detours on the way. I always wanted to become a singer, so I moved to LA after high-school to live that dream."

He was pleasantly surprised by that.

"So what happened?"

"I couldn't get over my damn stage fright." She shrugged, but he could tell that it clearly still bothered her.

He knew _he_ looked shocked, mostly because he had, as recently as like a day before, seen her up on a stage. Barely dressed.

She apparently noticed. "I know, I know, it doesn't make sense. But that's why I started wearing that wig. To gain some false confidence."

"So if it works for you when you're...dancing, why don't you just perform your music with a wig on?"

She nodded. "I tried, but it didn't work. I felt like the music lost something that way, I don't know, it's so personal...if I'm not myself on stage, the music doesn't mean as much. But I'm still too scared of being myself up there, you know? So I kind of gave up on it."

He nodded as he guessed that that made sense. "So what's your dream now?"

"Now? I kind of just want to be a songwriter."

He couldn't help but smile although he wasn't sure of why.

"What about you?"

He had to wait a few seconds before responding, as his mouth was full of heavenly pancakes. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you give up on your music-stardom dreams?"

He shrugged. "I guess I just grew up."

"I don't think you're _ever_ too old to follow your dreams."

"Yeah, I guess...but I mean, I had a one in a billon chance of making it, and then I met Cassidy, and...

"She didn't approve?"

That would be putting it mildly. Cassidy didn't even like him _listening_ to music.

"Something like that."

"So, you gave up your dreams for the _dream_ _girl_?" The last couple of words sounded like a curse, and he knew she was being sarcastic, a bit overly so. It kind of hurt a little, mostly because she was right.

He shrugged.

"I guess I thought so."

"Oh, good, because true love is _clearly_ when you give up all your fucking dreams for someone else." Still so sarcastic.

"I think you're the most cynical person I've ever met." He was shaking his head at her as he shoved another huge fork of delicious pancakes into his mouth.

"That's only because love doesn't exist. But we have already gone over this, are you even paying attention?"

He nodded, because he was. She had his _undivided_ attention.

It was quiet for a minute, both of them seemingly thinking of times passed.

Her face suddenly lit up and it made her look even prettier.

As if that was necessary.

Fuck.

"I know! I've got it. We should work together. Me and you. I write, you rock. Who knows, maybe together, we might just make it?"

He laughed, more at her enthusiasm than the practical impossibilities and outright ridiculousness of her juvenile plan.

"Come on, it would be _fun_."

All he could do was laugh, because he was sure she was right.

Them together _was_ fun.

The waitress arrived with the check, putting it down on the table in between them and she immediately reached for it.

He snapped it up from underneath her hand.

"_My_ treat. Some dumb girl bought me way too many drinks last night, wasting all her hard-earned money."

"Did you have a good time?" Her eyes were serious, dark, and he wasn't entirely sure of whether she was talking about the too heavy drinking or the things that had happened after that.

But she must already know that _that_ had been fucking fantastic.

"I did."

"Then that was the best money that dumb girl has ever spent."

He smiled at her as he stood up and they walked towards the parking lot, side by side.

Damn.

The non-date they had just had had been better than any date he had been on.

Probably ever.

He pulled out into the early afternoon traffic as she was already messing with the radio.

There was still a long drive home.

**_Somewhere in Texas - afternoon._**

His phone was going off where it was laying in the cup holder between them, the screen lighting up with a familiar number along with his best friend's name.

She wrinkled her nose. "What is _that_?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your ringtone. It's awful."

"You don't like Shiny Money?"

She shook her head and he laughed as he reached for the phone and picked up.

"Hey dude." It was nice to hear Dez's voice.

"What's up, buddy?"

"Just driving."

"Good. We're back in Miami. I'm sorry you had to drive all alone."

"I'm not...alone."

"What do you mean?"

"I have some company. Female company."

Dez stayed quiet for a minute, and at first he thought he had lost him. Then, some weird, shrieking noise flooded through the phone and he quickly said bye, smiling as he hung up, her duckface flashing at him from the small, bright screen as he pressed the lock button.

"Was that the _bachelor_?"

"Yeah. Dez. He's my best friend. I kind of consider him my brother. He knows pretty much everything about me."

"Like what? Tell me something that only Dez knows." She sounded curious.

"I write a journal."

She smiled again, but more like an appreciative smile than a surprised one. "What do you write in it?"

"Nothing and everything."

She nodded. "I have a notebook where I write down lyrics and important things, too. As a matter of fact, I was writing some things down while I was waiting for you this morning."

It surprised him how badly he wanted to read that book.

"You're in it, by the way." She smiled at him as he felt a bit dizzy.

Wow.

_He_ was an important thing.

Wow.

She continued. "What else? Its not like the journal one was really a surprise."

He thought for a minute. "He knows I used to have a ladybug nightlight. Well, I mean, Cassidy made me get rid of it when we moved in together but..."

"You _lived_ together?" She sounded surprised and all he could think of doing was nod.

He was grateful that she didn't ask any further questions, but instead choosing to turn the conversation back to his redheaded best friend.

"It sounds like Dez is your Trish."

"Who's Trish?"

"She's my manager. And roommate. Or, I guess former roommate now. And kind of my dysfunctional non-biological sister."

He laughed. "You have a _manager_?"

"Yeah. I mean, she's _clearly_ very, very good at what she does."

He laughed. "Clearly."

"In her defense, though, I don't really pay her. Ah, I'm going to miss her. So much."

She quickly turned and looked out the window, and he was pretty sure that she was fighting back some tears.

He sped up a bit more, as the longish drive was slowly decreasing in distance.

**_Somewhere in Texas, late afternoon._**

They had once again argued over the radio music choices, and he had once again lost, when she turned to him while bopping her head to her preferred music.

"I bet you wish you were driving alone right now."

He vigorously shook his head. "I can't recall a single time in the last few months that I've been happier than when I saw you sitting on top of my car this morning."

She smiled a teasing smile. "How about last night?"

"What do you mean?" He kind of knew exactly what she meant.

"Last night, when _I_ was sitting on top of _you_."

He almost swirled off the road.

Fuck.

Which coincidentally also kind of summed up the night in question.

"Yeah...I...I _enjoyed_ that too."' That was an understatement if there had ever been one.

She smiled again, but it was a different one this time around. "I'm sorry I seduced you."

She sounded so sincere, and so sad, and it kind of broke his not completely healed heart.

He ran his fingers though his hair.

Crap.

"Why are you sorry?" His voice sounded worried but only because he was. He really hoped she wasn't having second thoughts about it.

"Because _you_ clearly regret it. I know I'm probably not the type of girl you usually go for and..."

He interrupted her because he kind of had to. "You don't understand. I don't regret sleeping with you because I _don't_ care about you, god damn it, I regret it because I _do_."

"You're right, I don't get it." She still sounded sad.

"Look...I just don't want to be the reason for your old self finding you."

She stayed quiet for a minute, and he briefly thought that the conversation was over, before she spoke again.

"Then _you're_ the one who don't understand. You're the type of guy I'm running _towards_, Austin, not the type I'm running away from."

The following thick silence was instantly killed when the first enormous raindrop hit the windshield, exploding like a large grenade with subsequent liquid debris, and within 30 seconds, the rain was smattering against the window in relentless gun fire.

It rained in Miami, often, and yet he had never seen anything like it.

The full-powered window wipers were unable to perform their job fast enough, and as he slowed down he could feel the car swirling slightly on the too moistured road.

He still couldn't see shit.

He didn't like rain.

At all.

He felt his pulse speeding up a bit in nervousness as the car continued to slide a little, and before he knew it, he almost lost control of it, ending up mere millimeters away from slamming into the car in front of them that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

She screamed and he abruptly turned to the side, driving off the road and pulling over, the tires still slipping slightly against the wet grass of the roadside shoulder.

He sighed, loudly, as he leaned over the steering wheel.

She started to laugh, hysterically, the laughter turning into a quiet sob within less than a minute and she was shaking, her skinny body shuddering, and he could not _not_ lean over and wrap his arms around her.

He was a bit scared to touch her, yet almost physically aching to do so. He had never met anyone else who confused him and turned him on and made him feel warm and nervous all at once.

"I'm sorry, it's just, I was in a really bad accident once and..."her voice turned into a sob again, a quiet one, and his hold on her tightened a bit.

She turned to face him, a few tears running down her cheek, and he leaned in and rubbed his nose up against her, giving her an Eskimo-kiss, as if it was freezing, as if _she_ needed to be warmed up while _he_ clearly needed to be cooled down, as having her so close, _too_ close, made his body react in ways that even his stubborn mind couldn't keep under control.

He knew he leaned in, and he knew that he wanted to desperately kiss her, but he couldn't recall whether he ended up kissing her or if she was the one who kissed him.

It didn't really matter, though, as his lips ended up on hers nonetheless.

His leg was pressing into the shift-stick as his tounge was licking hers, and for some reason she tasted sweeter than he could remember.

The flavor of her in his mouth made his taste buds come alive and his dick nearly cum alive and there was absolutely no way in hell that he wasn't going to take her.

He also couldn't recall how they ended up in the back of the car, all he knew was that he was suddenly laying on top of her in the somewhat spacious backseat.

His fingers were traveling along the waistband of her shorts, her soft skin like cotton against his rougher hands, her toungue exploring his neck as he was breathing hard.

He kissed her again, and again, the still smattering rain functioning as a soundtrack of their impromptu make-out session, the make-out session that was growing increasingly steamier by each passing minute.

For a second, he thought that they may fog up the car, as if they were Rose and Jack in that old car on board of that big ship, headed for a catastrophe.

Except _he_ wasn't necessarily poor and _she_ wasn't necessarily of rich upper-class.

That, and he really, _really_ hoped nobody would die in the end.

So maybe it wasn't exactly like the movie.

Either way, though, it was hot as fuck.

He unbuttoned her shorts, letting his hand slid in between the jean fabric and her panties, massaging each of her leg in small circles before hesitantly moving in between them.

She was already wet, he could feel it through the thin fabric, and she was moaning loudly as his fingers moved inside of her underwear and then inside of her.

Fuck.

He had been attracted to her all along, but he was even _more_ attracted to her now, as he knew more of what was hidden underneath her too pretty surface.

He pulled her shorts down as she reached for his, unbuttoning them and pulling them and his boxers down in one effortful sweep before grabbing his cock, pumping him a few times while he continued to finger fuck her, before needingly and almost demandingly whispering in his ear.

"I need you, Austin."

And then he was in her again.

Deep.

He started to move, holding back his instinct of mercilessly pounding her, increasing his speed slowly and gradually as her wetness increased and his sanity decreased with each hard thrust, soon fucking her hard by the side of the road, next to some highway that he couldn't remember the name of even if he _had_ wanted to.

It wasn't as urgent as the previous night, not as desperate, but intimate, and deep, and wonderful, and he wasn't completely sure but still fairly certain that _she_ was _his_ good karma, although he didn't really know what he had done to deserve her, but clearly something very, very good.

She was meeting his every move, her body in complete synchrony with his much larger one, his arms rubbing up against her narrow shoulders as her wet pussy started to vibrate around him. A few more quick shoves, and he made her cum, her nails digging into his neck and creating crescent shaped halfmoon marks of pleasure on his sensitive skin, while he reluctantly gave in as well, filling her while seeing orgasmic stars.

He pulled out of her, but didn't move off of her as he realized that he was not even completely undressed, his shorts still a disorganized mess around his ankles and his tank top now slightly damp from sweat.

His breathing remained ragged as he stayed on top of her, not ready to break skin contact just yet.

Her cheeks were red, her chest moving up and down in small heaves, and she looked so fucking hot that he almost took her again right away.

He was completely sober, yet having no second thoughts whatsoever.

It felt oddly right.

They laid there for a minute or two, embracing as the heavy rain soon decreased in intensity and before he knew it, it had stopped.

He reluctantly rolled off of her and got redressed, with a bit of a difficulty due to the small space, before he climbed back into the front seat, and she soon followed.

It was time to get back on the road.

None of them spoke as he started the car and started to drive, his mind a mess of jumbled thoughts, as she leaned up against the passenger seat window, her legs curled up underneath her, one of the large t-shirts from his bag spread out on top of her like an improvised blanket.

He had only driven for a few minutes when he realized that she had dozed off into a peaceful-looking sleep yet again.

He was trying to focus on the road and not her when he heard her whisper something.

Again and again.

"_Austin_."

She was clearly still sleeping.

God.

She was _dreaming_ of him, just like _he_ was dreaming of _her_, although he wasn't sleeping.

And despite the now clear sky above them growing increasingly dark by the minute, his life was instantly full of light.

Funny how the drive home suddenly wasn't nearly long enough.


End file.
